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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28150755">The Great Turkey Calamity, Part Two</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingaway4/pseuds/floatingaway4'>floatingaway4</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red White &amp; Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:00:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,459</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28150755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingaway4/pseuds/floatingaway4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex and Henry are making Christmas dinner for Alex's family this year, so they decide to do a practice run at Thanksgiving. </p><p> </p><p>For the RWRB Winterfest 2020<br/>Prompt 19: baking and Prompt 25: feast</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>RWRB Winterfest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Great Turkey Calamity, Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to Rooster_Crow for trying to help me figure out what I didn't like about this story! I think I fixed it :-)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alex is not nervous. </p><p> </p><p>Not much. </p><p> </p><p>He and Henry are just having Alex’s family over for Christmas dinner, making all the food themselves for the first time. That’s all. </p><p> </p><p>So they’re doing a practice run for Christmas by making their own Thanksgiving dinner. It’s just the two of them this year, because Henry has to be at the shelter for an event and they didn’t want the rush and chaos of having to leave town. Plus, this way, if they mess up, only they’ll know about it and they can fix all the glitches before Christmas Eve. </p><p> </p><p>They sit at their kitchen island and Alex watches as Henry writes out a menu. “I mean, I can do ribs, so I can do turkey, right, babe?” </p><p> </p><p>Henry nods with a smile. “I’m sure you can, love.” </p><p> </p><p>Henry starts writing their initials next to the list of dishes. “I can make the mashed potatoes,” Henry says as he writes, “and I’ll make the cranberry jelly.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, you call opening a can ‘making’ something?” </p><p> </p><p>Henry puts his pen down. “You want tinned cranberry jelly?” </p><p> </p><p>“We call it cranberry <em> sauce</em>, and yes, that is the only acceptable way to eat it. You dump it right out of the can into a bowl.” Alex’s eyes light up with memories of holidays past. “And it just <em> wobbles </em> but it stays in the shape of the can, and you can still see the rings from the side....good stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>“That sounds vile,” Henry insists, shaking his head. </p><p> </p><p>Alex covers Henry’s hand with his own. “Do not question the cranberry sauce, sweetheart. That’s heresy.” Alex leans in until he’s an inch away from Henry’s pretty, pretty face. “I love you, but I will send your white ass straight back to England.” </p><p> </p><p>Henry rolls his eyes but leans over for a quick kiss. “How about if <em> you </em> open and empty a tin, and I make real cranberry relish, and we see which one people actually eat?” </p><p> </p><p>“Whatever. I will be victorious, and you will be embarrassed.” Alex taps the list. “Write down green bean casserole.” </p><p> </p><p>Henry does. “What’s that, exactly?” </p><p> </p><p>Alex describes the ingredients, amused by Henry’s baffled expression. “Trust me, babe, looks disgusting, tastes fantastic.” </p><p> </p><p>Henry looks dubious but writes it down anyway, with an ‘A’ next to it. </p><p> </p><p>Alex leans back in his chair and reaches over to play with Henry’s hair. “What are you making for dessert?” </p><p> </p><p>“I thought I’d get a pumpkin pie from the bakery near the shelter. They’d appreciate the business, and I hate to make something I’ve never eaten. I’ve no idea if I’m making it correctly.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s fair,” Alex nods. </p><p> </p><p>“But I’m also going to make a mincemeat pie and a rustic berry tart.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex narrows his eyes. “Isn’t mincemeat…?”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no meat in it, love. Traditionally it’s made with suet, but the jarred filling is just apples and raisins and orange and spices. Bea sent me a few jars of it to practice."</p><p> </p><p>Alex tilts his head. “Okay, but I swear if you try to put anything weird in there…”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll what?” Henry asks, the hint of a dare in his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Alex moves closer, until his lips are practically touching Henry’s. “Probably eat it anyway.” </p><p> </p><p>Henry bursts out laughing. </p><p> </p><p>On Thanksgiving morning, they start their official practice run. Alex pulls out his detailed, color-coded schedule for the day. He props up his iPad and turns on the YouTube video he’s using for the turkey. He lines up his turkey baster and his meat thermometer, then heaves the bird out of the refrigerator and cuts the wrapping off. Closing his eyes, he reaches in to pull out the giblets. His whiny moan brings an alarmed Henry into the kitchen. “Alex, are you-- ah, never mind. I see,” Henry smirks. “Want me to stay for moral support?” </p><p> </p><p>“No, well, I mean, of course you can stay, but...I got this,” Alex says, with more confidence than he actually feels. </p><p> </p><p>“I have complete faith in you, love.” </p><p> </p><p>Alex washes his hands then starts pulling the skin loose and shoving cubes of butter under it, just like the guy in the video. </p><p> </p><p>“That just looks...inappropriate,” Henry tells him, his eyes full of laughter. “Did you get consent from the turkey?” </p><p> </p><p>Alex laughs and starts rubbing an herb mix into the skin. He slides the turkey in the oven and sets a timer for basting. He already feels very accomplished, checking items off his list. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re up, babe.” </p><p> </p><p>Henry ties on the “Kiss the cook” apron that Alex gave him. He pulls out a cookbook and starts making dough in the big Kitchen Aid mixer Alex bought him as a moving in gift. (“<em>You’re </em> my moving in gift, love, but I’ve always wanted one of these.”) </p><p> </p><p>Alex watches for a few minutes. While the mixer is running, Henry pulls some little ceramic pie dishes out of one of the cabinets Alex can’t reach. Henry looks weirdly...skilled. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait, how...when did you get good at this? I mean, you watch Bake Off, but you don’t…have you practiced this already?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” he murmurs without looking up. “Oh, once or twice.”</p><p> </p><p>Alex clears his throat and waits for more of an explanation. </p><p> </p><p>“Remember when I went to England last month for family business?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Alex says, suspiciously. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, while I was there, I also arranged for some private cooking lessons.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah? From one of the palace cooks?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Henry doesn't offer more, which just makes Alex’s spidey senses tingle more. He leans over the counter, resting on his forearms. </p><p> </p><p>“Your mom?” </p><p> </p><p>Henry snorts in response. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, from who?”</p><p> </p><p>Henry mutters an answer that Alex can’t hear over the whirring of the mixer. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Because he can’t have heard him right. </p><p> </p><p>Henry scatters flour on the counter top and flips the mixer off, expertly dumping the dough into the flour. “Mary Berry.” </p><p> </p><p>“How the fuck…?” but then Alex remembers his boyfriend is the Prince of Wales and can probably command whoever he wants to <em> do </em> whatever he wants. </p><p> </p><p>“I mean, if one is going to be a prince, one should be able to use it to some advantage, yes?” Henry’s coy smile nearly destroys Alex, makes his heart beat a little faster. </p><p> </p><p>Alex laughs and circles the island. “Some people take over countries, you ask for baking lessons.” He snuggles up against Henry’s back. “I love that you use your powers for good and not for evil.” Henry turns for a quick kiss before going back to rolling out pie dough. </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t believe you baked with Mary Berry and you kept it a <em> secret </em> til now!” </p><p> </p><p>Henry blushes. “It was a herculean effort, I’ll admit.” </p><p> </p><p>“Wait, you didn’t meet Paul Hollywood, too, did you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Henry insists, blushing a little more. </p><p> </p><p>“Good, because that would make me a little jealous. I see you ogle him when we watch that show.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“I do not ogle Paul Hollywood! That’s preposterous!”</p><p> </p><p>Alex turns Henry’s body so he can look him straight in the eye, and wraps his arms around Henry’s waist. He rubs slow circles into Henry’s low back. His voice is velvety soft, almost hypnotic. “Did you know that when you lie, you use bigger words?”</p><p> </p><p>“I most certainly do not. That’s completely ludi--...silly.” </p><p> </p><p>“Uh-huh,” Alex says with a grin. He swats at Henry with a dishtowel, then flips it back over his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>Henry gets his desserts in the top oven and writes down the time it took to do them on Alex's master schedule. He’s working on his cranberry sauce when Alex wanders into the kitchen. “Wasting your time, sweetheart.” </p><p> </p><p>Henry shakes his head. “Darling, I'll respect your loyalty to that canned gelatinous... mess, but I’m also making real cranberry sauce for the adults in the room.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bite me, Wales.”</p><p> </p><p>Once Henry has set the cranberries aside to cool, Alex moves in and starts making out with him. </p><p> </p><p>“Hello,” Henry says between kisses. </p><p> </p><p>“Just doing what the apron says, baby.” </p><p> </p><p>A timer goes off on the counter and they separate, Alex basting and Henry stirring. </p><p> </p><p>“We got this, right?” Alex asks. </p><p> </p><p>Henry nods. “I believe we do.” </p><p> </p><p>Alex looks at all the dishes they’ve already made. “I just want this to go well,” he explains to Henry. “This is my first time doing a holiday thing, and if I screw it up, June will never let me live it down.” </p><p> </p><p>Henry wraps an arm around Alex from the side. His heart melts a little every time Alex describes any relationship milestones as their “first time,” because it leads him to the enchanting idea that there will be a second, and a third, and maybe even a twentieth time….It’s a future Henry never dared dream of, and now he has it, spooling out endlessly in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>“Everything will be fine,” he assures Alex. </p><p> </p><p>A few hours later, Alex pulls the turkey from the oven and leaves it on a platter to cool a bit. </p><p> </p><p>“That smells amazing, darling,” Henry calls from the living room. He walks in to see the results of Alex’s hard work and the pride on Alex’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“It has to cool a bit, but I think it’s good.” He sticks the meat thermometer in one more time and watches the digital readout. </p><p> </p><p>They line up all the dishes on the counter, the turkey in the middle, and head into the dining room to look at the table. They’re discussing seating and which dishes to put on the buffet, when there’s a loud, horrifying series of crashes from the kitchen. </p><p> </p><p>They dart back into the kitchen to see pieces of the platter all over the floor, and their turkey inching down the hallway. Green bean casserole drips down the side of the island. </p><p> </p><p>“How in the bloody hell…” Henry starts. “Don’t step on …” Henry points at the floor, as Alex dances over the broken shards in his socked feet. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine, get him before he chokes on something,” Alex yells at Henry. He points down the hallway, where David is happily chomping away on a huge blob of turkey skin and meat. Henry picks up the turkey and hurls it back onto the counter, where it lands with a greasy plop and skids across the marble surface. He chases David, who runs upstairs and dives under the bed. </p><p> </p><p>Alex can hear Henry arguing with him, trying to pull him out. “Would you just come out of there, you little thief…” </p><p> </p><p>Alex is sweeping up the platter shards when Henry comes stomping back downstairs. </p><p> </p><p>“He okay?” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, he’s fine. He’s very pleased with himself,” Henry looks down, holding David’s snout and looking him in the eye. “Aren’t you?” </p><p> </p><p>Henry checks the dog’s mouth one more time for bones or skin and examines his paw pads for cuts. He pulls out his phone and calls the vet, wandering around the house as he talks. He ends up back in the kitchen as he’s ending the call. Alex is on his knees on the kitchen floor, wiping up the mess. He sits back against the island and when Henry comes in, he slides down next to him. Alex hands him a towel to wipe his hands. </p><p> </p><p>“The vet says as long as he didn’t get any bones and didn’t eat too much, he’ll be fine. I mean, he might throw up, but he’ll be fine.” Henry rubs his forehead and sighs, scanning the catastrophe of their kitchen. “Alex, I am so, so sorry.” He throws his arms out to the side. “All your hard work…” </p><p> </p><p>Alex grins at him. “I don’t know why you’re apologizing, babe. You didn’t grab the turkey in your teeth and drag it out of the room like a caveman.” </p><p> </p><p>Henry still looks agitated. “I know, but my dog--”</p><p> </p><p>Alex reaches over and puts two gentle fingers on Henry’s lips. “<em>Our </em> dog,” he clarifies, “did that. And it’s no one’s fault.” He lands a kiss on Henry’s nose. “He saw an opportunity and he took it. Can’t blame him.” Alex winds an arm around Henry’s waist, lowers his voice to a whisper. “Like when I saw you at that state dinner and hauled you off into the Red Room with me.” He breathes lightly over Henry’s lips. “I saw my chance,” a quick kiss, “and I took it.” </p><p> </p><p>Henry huffs out a laugh. “You did have a bit of a caveman thing going on that night, dragging me off to have your way with me.” Henry’s sultry whisper is almost drowned out when his stomach growls. </p><p> </p><p>Alex smiles, drops his forehead to Henry’s chest. “Let’s eat what’s left. Then maybe I'll do my caveman imitation again.” </p><p> </p><p>Henry drops a kiss in Alex’s hair. Alex sits up on his knees and grabs the mashed potatoes from the counter. He swipes his finger through them and licks the potatoes off. “Mmm, these are good.” He loads up the serving spoon and feeds Henry a bite. Henry hums in agreement. </p><p> </p><p>They stay on the floor, sharing the bowl of mashed potatoes, and Alex starts to laugh. “Actually, baby, I think this is pretty on-brand for us. We make plans, and everything goes all to hell anyway.” Henry laughs, sticks his finger in the potatoes, and feeds them to Alex, who sucks on Henry’s finger longer than is absolutely necessary. </p><p> </p><p>Alex reaches up again and snags the bowl of canned cranberry sauce, wobbling it back and forth in front of Henry. “Try a bite, for me?” he pleads, giving Henry his best puppy dog eyes. Henry accepts a small taste and declares it “edible.” </p><p> </p><p>David pads over to lay his head on Henry’s knee, looking for all the world like he’s apologizing. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re a very bad boy,” Henry tells him gently, but he’s patting his little round head with a fond smile. </p><p> </p><p>“But your dads love you anyway,” Alex finishes. He rests his head on Henry’s shoulder, content even in the middle of their own personal chaos. </p><p> </p><p>After a few minutes, Alex pops up on his knees again and grabs the detailed, color-coded schedule they’ve been making notes on all day, now splattered with grease from the turkey incident. He scrapes at it with a paper towel the best he can, then scrawls on the bottom: <em> Keep turkey away from dog.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Henry laughs hysterically. When he finally catches his breath, he leans over for a long, lazy kiss. “Happy Thanksgiving, darling.” </p><p> </p><p>Alex toys with Henry’s shirt collar, staring into his eyes. “Happy Thanksgiving, baby.” </p><p> </p><p>A month later, they follow the same carefully planned, color-coded schedule, and sure enough, their first Christmas dinner goes off without a hitch.  Well, they follow the same plan, with one important addition: </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Step 1: Put David in bedroom </em>
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